


Suffer Well

by xxenjoy



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Anal Sex, Hurt Dean, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Massage, POV Dean, PWP, Strangers to Lovers, bottom!Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-05
Updated: 2018-02-05
Packaged: 2019-03-13 23:55:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13581633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xxenjoy/pseuds/xxenjoy
Summary: When Dean comes to he's freezing and sore, and there's a vague memory of a fight that got out of hand, but not much else. He shuts his eyes with a groan, trying to remember what happened; he was with Charlie, telling some fuck to leave her alone an then- oh yeah, they got kicked out. Damn, Charlie must have been pissed at him. How he ended up in an alleyway is a bit of a blur, but he's just glad that Charlie's not around anymore to find him like this; knowing him, he probably sent her home and came up with some lie about getting home on his own. His head is pounding and when he tries to move a sharp pain shoots through his shoulder, so he just stays put and hopes that he'll just pass out again. If he was more conscious and more sober, he'd realize what a terrible idea it is because it's snowing and probably close to zero, but right now he's focused on not feeling anything, and the easier way to do that is just to pass back out.





	Suffer Well

**Author's Note:**

> Now with a [beautiful gifset](https://castiels-tight-grip.tumblr.com/post/172976910245/im-not-going-to-leave-you-castiel-says-and/) by the greatest ever [castiels-tight-grip](https://castiels-tight-grip.tumblr.com/)!!!

When Dean comes to he's freezing and sore, and there's a vague memory of a fight that got out of hand, but not much else. He shuts his eyes with a groan, trying to remember what happened; he was with Charlie, telling some fuck to leave her alone an then- oh yeah, they got kicked out. Damn, Charlie must have been pissed at him. How he ended up in an alleyway is a bit of a blur, but he's just glad that Charlie's not around anymore to find him like this; knowing him, he probably sent her home and came up with some lie about getting home on his own. His head is pounding and when he tries to move a sharp pain shoots through his shoulder, so he just stays put and hopes that he'll just pass out again. If he was more conscious and more sober, he'd realize what a terrible idea it is because it's snowing and probably close to zero, but right now he's focused on not feeling anything, and the easier way to do that is just to pass back out. 

There's a blur that looks like someone heading in his direction, and he groans to himself because with his luck it's gonna be a cop - he's pretty sure the bartender threatened to call them but that might be his imagination. If it's not a cop, whoever it is is an idiot, because he's pretty sure that judging by how he feels, that he looks like shit as well - not like someone you want to approach down a dark alley - but the blur just keeps moving forward. He tries to think what the maximum punishment for being drunk and disorderly is - or worse, potentially assault - if it is the cops but his head hurts too much, and he just slumps his shoulders and leans back against what feels like a flimsy wall. 

He keeps his eyes on the blur, and it just keeps coming closer, but it looks slim - no bulky police belt or vest - so maybe it's just a good samaritan who thinks he's homeless and wants to give him food or money, that would be the best case scenario. He can deal with that, so long as whoever it is doesn't recognize him, because the situation he's in is embarrassing enough as is, but he doesn't even really remember how he got here, which is worse, and he doesn't want anyone he knows to see him like this; as long as the blur just does its thing and goes away, he'll be fine. 

Only it doesn't. The blur comes closer until it actually looks like a person, and crouches down in front of him. Dean opens his eyes properly to see the blur/person in front of him, and it's a guy - not a cop, just a random dude from the street. 

"Are you okay?" the guy asks, tilting his head and touching Dean's arm gingerly. Dean just grumbles at him unintelligibly hoping he'll leave, but it seems to have the opposite effect.

"My name's Castiel," the man offers, "what happened to you?"

Dean ignores him - maybe if he's obstinate enough, Castiel will just leave him alone and go on his merry way; if Dean rests for a little longer, he should be able to get himself home without anyone else having to get involved. 

"I'm not going to leave you," Castiel says, and Dean frowns at him, because that's an odd thing to say to someone you've never met. Especially someone who's half-conscious on the street. "What's your name?"

Dean just grunts at him, and he's expecting an eye-roll at least, but Castiel just drops to his knees, and he seems to be inspecting Dean's arm.

"Do you have any ID?" he asks, and Dean closes his eyes. There's a faint puff of breath, but it's the only thing that indicates Castiel is frustrated with him; when he touches him, his hands are soft and gentle, and he warns Dean when he's going to reach into his pockets.

"I'm not going to take anything, I just want to find out who you are." 

He locates Dean's wallet, and Dean's glad to find that it's still on him, but he automatically reaches out to take it back and topples to one side as pain sears through his shoulder. Castiel moves quickly, dropping the wallet and slipping his arm around Dean's side to right him again. 

"Dean?" he asks, "you're Dean? What's wrong with your arm?" 

When he's seated again, leaning back against the wall, Castiel hands his wallet back to him, and Dean tucks it back into his jacket pocket with some difficulty.

"Dean, I need you to talk to me. Tell me what happened."

"Fight," Dean mutters, and Castiel visibly relaxes. 

"Okay, good. Do you know who else was involved, do you know where you are?"

He shakes his head; the guy at the bar was just some random dick, and he only vaguely remembers leaving, so he could be halfway across fucking town for all he knows. 

"Can you stand?"

Dean nods, and Castiel rises to his feet, holding out a hand to him, but it's a lot fucking harder than he anticipated, trying to stand up in the snow with only one good arm. He doesn't know why he's trying anyway, so he slumps back against the wall and folds his legs back under him. 

"I can't help you if you don't get up," Castiel says softly, "I think your shoulder might be dislocated, and if you don't know how to reduce it properly it's not going to get any better."

"I'm fine."

"You're not fine, Dean, you're hurt. Just let me help you."

"You can fix it?" Dean mutters because really, that's the only thing holding him back. If Castiel can at least lessen the pain in his shoulder, Dean can get home fine, no matter how far he is from it. 

"If you let me."

"Fine." He relents because he's sore, and he's exhausted, and he just wants to get home and fall into his own bed and forget like this whole night ever happened. Castiel bends down, and wraps his arms around Dean's torso, heaving him to his feet, and Dean's a little shocked with how little effort it takes on his part; this guy is stronger than he looks. Then again, when Dean first saw him, he was just a blurry grey shape, so he may not be in the best state of mind to be assessing people's strength. 

When he's on his feet, he leans into Castiel's warmth; he hadn't realized just how fucking cold he was until now, and somehow that just makes him feel even more pathetic, but Castiel doesn't seem he mind. He turns into him, pressing his face into his shoulder and Castiel wraps his arms around him, making a concerned sound with his mouth as he pulls him close.

"You're fucking freezing," he mutters, "how long have you been out here?"

"Dunno."

Castiel draws away and Dean's whole body shudders with the loss of heat, "my apartment is right around the corner, come with me and I'll get you fixed up. If you stay outside any longer you're going to freeze to death."

Dean's too tired to argue now, and his brain assures him that if Castiel is warm, his apartment will be warm, and that's all Dean's concerned about right now. Castiel presses in against his left side, and Dean flops his good arm around his shoulders as Castiel's arm slides around his waist. 

He can't feel his feet and he's slow, but Castiel is patient with him, which somehow makes the whole situation even more frustrating. He doesn't get it - why some random guy off the street would find him and make sure he's okay, because he got himself into this mess, and it he freezes to death in an alley, well maybe that's just what he deserves. 

They reach Castiel's apartment building after what feels like an eternity, and a little of the chill eases off as soon as they get inside. Dean's exhausted from walking, and he slumps into the corner of the elevator, shutting his eyes and hoping he'll wake up to find its all just a bad dream. The bell dings and he groans out loud, pushing himself upright with his good arm and hobbling out after Castiel. 

He stumbles and Castiel is quick to duck under his arm, propping him up again as they reach his door. As they walk in, a gust of hot air hits Dean, and goosebumps break out all over his skin. He has never appreciated something so simple as being warm so much in his life, and he needs more of it right now. Castiel sits him carefully down on the couch. He goes back to the door to lock up, then returns and sits on the edge of the coffee table, with his body turned to Dean.

"Is there anyone I should call?"

Dean shakes his head, "no, don't wanna bug 'em."

"Do you have a phone? If anyone is expecting you, they'll be worried, you should let them know you're okay."

He pats himself down and finds his wallet and keys, but he has no idea where his phone is, or even when he lost it. It might be back in the alley, but he doesn't suspect Castiel will want to leave him alone in his home, and he sure as hell doesn't want to go back out there to get it. He tries to retrace his steps to figure out where it might be, but the last thing he remembers before the fight was-

" _Shit, Charlie_."

"Who's Charlie?"

"My best friend, she was with me- I dunno if she got home or-"

"Do you know her number?" He nods, and Cas reaches into his own pocket, handing over a sleek black phone, "call her, tell her you're okay. I'm gonna go make you something warm to drink."

Dean dials the familiar number, and Charlie picks up almost immediately.

"Hello?" she asks.

"Hey, Char-"

"Dean, what the fuck? Where are you? I've been calling you for the last hour since you took off-"

"Hey, hey I'm sorry. I'm okay, I just lost my phone. I'm gonna take a shower and head to bed, I just wanted to make sure you got home okay."

"Yeah, I'm good, no thanks to you."

"I know," he lies, "I'm so sorry Charlie, I'll make it up to you, I promise."

"You better."

"Take care, Charlie."

"You too."

He ends the call and slides the phone across the coffee table, and when Castiel comes back into the room, he's frowning at him. 

"You shouldn't lie to her," he mumbles, but Dean just shrugs with his good arm.

"If I told her the truth, she'd just worry. Tomorrow I'll go see her and I'll tell her what happened, and she'll be able to see that I'm still in one piece."

Castiel doesn't seem overly thrilled with that answer, but he doesn't dispute it as he sits back down on the coffee table, "alright, let me look at you." 

Dean does as he's told, sitting still as Castiel looks him over. He hadn't had a chance to look at him before, but now that they're inside in the light, and Dean can focus on more than just wanting to pass out, he realizes Castiel is kind hot. He groans internally because of course he would be. 

"How bad is it?" he asks, and Castiel shrugs.

"It's not awful. Your shoulder's definitely dislocated, and you've got a black eye, but you'll survive."

"Coulda told you that," Dean mumbles.

"Mmhm, It's the gash on your head that worries me. How's your vision?"

"Iffy."

"Do you have a headache, any pain other than the scrapes and bruises?" he leans in close, watching Dean's eyes. 

Dean shakes his head, "not really. Hey, uh, Castiel? What are you doing?"

"Checking to see if you have a concussion, but it's difficult because a lot of the standard symptoms could be masked by the rest of your injuries, and that fact that you've been drinking." He frowns, "let me know if you start feeling any different, right now I need you to come into the bedroom so I can reduce your shoulder."

Castiel stands up, shrugging out of his jacket, and Dean stops where he's half-crouched above the couch because Castiel's arms are covered in tattoos. Castiel misreads the situation and slips under Dean's arm to help him to the bedroom. He's fine to walk on his own now that he can mostly feel his feet, but Cas is still warmer than the rest of the room, and Dean doesn't feel the need to correct his misjudgment. 

He sits on the bed and Castiel gestures for him to lie down, so he does, staring blankly up at the ceiling. The bed dips down next to him and Castiel kneels on the bed next to him, adjusting his good arm. 

"Are you comfortable?" he asks.

"As comfortable as I'm gonna get."

"Okay, I need you to relax. Take a couple deep breaths, and then I'm going to move your arm, okay?"

"Is it gonna hurt?"

"Not if you relax."

Dean nods obediently and takes a few deep, calming breaths. As Castiel reaches for his arm, he tenses up and grabs his arm, "hey, Castiel, are you sure you know what you're doing?"

"Why do you keep calling me that?"

"What, Castiel? It's your name, isn't it?" he must be really out of it if he got this guy's name wrong because where in the hell would he have pulled _Castiel_ from.

"It is," he says softly, "but most people just call me Cas."

"Well, that's a hell of a lot easier to remember," Dean mutters.

"And yes, I know what I'm doing. I would have taken you to a hospital if I didn't, but I got the impression you probably wouldn't want to go to a hospital."

"You're not wrong."

"Can I do this now?" he asks, pointing to Dean's limp arm, "are you good?"

"Yeah, 'm good." 

Cas takes a breath and shifts slightly, spreading his knees to stabilize himself as he slowly moves Dean's arm so that it's straight out to the side. Dean's surprised by the fact that it doesn't actually hurt when he does it, and he's beginning to wonder just exactly who this guy is who stumbled upon him. 

"I have to get your hand up behind your head," Cas explains, and Dean just nods along, closing his eyes and breathing slowly to keep himself relaxed. It's a little more awkward than before, but Dean tries to focus more on what Cas is doing than what he's doing _to him_ , and then suddenly there's a sort of popping sensation and his shoulder feels infinitely better.

"Better?" Cas asks, and Dean nods slowly, moving his shoulder slowly. It's still a little stiff, but he can move his arm without difficulty now.

"Much, thank you."

"You're welcome," Cas says, like it's really the simplest of things, "now that you can move it, you should let me see the rest of you because if your face is banged up that badly, I'm guessing there's more damage under your shirt." 

Cas slips off the bed and out of the room, and Dean struggles out of his jacket, sitting up and chucking it on the floor because it's wet and dirty and he doesn't want to make a mess of Cas' bed. His shirt is a little more difficult because his whole body is still sore, but he manages to get it up around his shoulders before Cas comes back and lifts it over his head for him.

"Thanks," he says, but when he looks down at himself, he wishes he hadn't taken it off; his whole right side is various shades of purple and red, except where his arm took the brunt of the damage, and there are scrapes from where something punctured the skin through his shirt. He's a fucking mess, and he kind of wishes he was at the hospital because at least they get paid to deal with fucking idiots who get the shit beaten out of them. 

Cas pulls a bottle from the nightstand and pours some onto a small white pad. It stings when it touches Dean's skin, and he assumes it's some sort of disinfectant because Cas uses it on his split lip and his forehead as well. That one hurts, and Dean jerks his head away with a grunt. 

"I'm sorry," Cas breathes, "I should have warned you."

"Nah, it's all good."

"Why don't you... tell me about your family," Cas suggests, "sometimes it helps to distract from the pain."

"Don't have much for family, 's really just me and my brother."

"What's your brother's name?" Cas asks, dabbing gently at the wound again. Dean winces, but he does his best to keep still and focus on the question.

"Sam. Samuel, but no one calls him that."

"Like Castiel."

"Yeah," Dean huffs, "um, he's uh- he's the smart one - he'd never end up in an alley in the middle of winter - he's gonna be a lawyer."

"Impressive," Cas nods, "and what about you, Dean?"

"Oh, I uh, I manage a bookstore. No big dreams here." There's a momentary silence, and Dean jumps in before Cas can comment, "what about _you_? You really seem to know what you're doing."

Cas chuckles and the vibration shifts his hands where they're resting on Dean's forehead. Dean winces, and Cas pulls back, "shit, sorry. I used to be an EMT."

"Well, that explains a lot. Why'd you stop?"

"It wasn't for me."

"Oh, the irony," Dean mumbles, and Cas grins, "what do you do now?"

"I'm a tattoo artist," he says, and yeah, Dean can see how that would make more sense. It pulls his attention back to Cas' arms, and he follows the lines with his eyes, examining each piece as Cas continues patching him up in silence. 

The majority of his injuries are superficial, but Cas still worries about his head and he double checks to make sure no other joints have been jolted out of place. It's nice, in a weird way, when Cas touches him; there's no heat behind it, and it's not something Dean's used to- generally if someone's touching him, it's because they're fighting or fucking and this is something totally different. He can't remember the last time someone just took care of him - probably his mom which would have made him only a toddler at the time, so yeah, having someone touch him without the intent to hurt is nice for once. 

He loses himself in the brush of Cas' fingers and art on his arms, and he realizes belatedly that he's touching the tattoos on his forearms, following their lines with his index finger. He retracts his hand too quickly, and Cas turns to look at him, a soft smile playing on his lips. 

"I don't mind."

"I uh, sorry, I wasn't- did you do these?"

"No," Cas shakes his head, "there's an octopus on my thigh that I did myself, but it was the first and last. I find it too awkward to position myself, and I'm too nervous about screwing it up."

Dean nods, "makes sense. They're beautiful."

"Thank you," Cas smiles. "How are you feeling? Are you warm?"

"A lot better, thanks to you. My head hurts a bit, but I think that's more the whiskey than, y'know, the head trauma." Cas frowns at him, but he can see the faintest hint of a smile breaking through, and he grins to himself. 

Cas is soft and gentle, despite his outward appearance, and Dean leans into his touches a little too strongly, sighs a little too loudly when Cas' fingers press into his skin. Cas keeps focused on his task, but Dean can see that he's getting through to him. Cas' lips twitch and he looks down at his hands when he thinks Dean isn't paying attention. 

Dean rests a hand on Cas' knee, slowly sliding up the length of his thigh, until strong fingers curl around his wrist and firmly, but gently put his arm back where it belongs.

"You're distracting me," Cas huffs, and Dean smirks at him.

"That's kind of the point."

"You need to rest," Cas says finally, sliding off the bed and gathering the few medical supplies sitting on the side table. Dean just drops his head against the pillow in mock-exasperation. "I'll just be out in the living room, let me know if you need anything."

"Anything?" Dean asks, wiggling his eyebrows, and wincing at the gash on his forehead. 

"Anything but that," Cas amends, "I'm not going to take advantage of you when you're drunk and probably concussed."

"You said I was fine."

"Recent events have led to me believe otherwise," Cas deadpans, and Dean just looks at him.

"Did you just make a joke?"

Cas smiles at him, and Dean nearly dies because he's so damn beautiful, the way his whole face crinkles up when he smiles, "get some rest, Dean." 

Cas slips out of the bedroom, flicking off the overhead light and pulling the door so it's not quite shut, and light from the living room leaks in. Dean lays back, staring up at the ceiling, moving each of his limbs, in turn, to see how bad the damage is. He's a little stiff, and tomorrow he'll probably feel like he spent a week at the gym, but overall he doesn't feel awful. Despite Cas' concerns - legitimate or otherwise - his head feels fine other than the fact that his buzz is wearing off and he could use a strong shot of whiskey. 

He settles for the glass of water Cas left for him on the side table and he shuts his eyes against the dark of the room. As much as he tries, he can't fall asleep; whether it's the fact that he's in a strange house or the guilt of abandoning Charlie creeping back up on him again, he doesn't know, but his mind just won't shut off, and after an hour of uncomfortable tossing and turning he gives up and sneaks into the living room. 

Cas is sitting on one end of the couch, watching TV and sketching and Dean curls up at the other end, doing his best not to distract him.

"I thought you were supposed to be resting," Cas hums, not looking up from his book. 

"Can't."

"How come?"

"Dunno, just can't. Not tired. What're you drawing?"

"It's a piece I'm doing next week for a friend of mine. It's a huge, underwater piece she's getting down her leg, and I'm just trying to figure out the spacing."

"Cool," Dean nods, "you mind if I hang out?"

Cas' lips pull up on one side, "No. Not at all."

Dean sits quietly, resting his head on the arm of the couch, but after a while, it gets too sore and he flips around, resting his head on the cushion next to Cas' leg. There's a documentary playing - some sort of underwater recovery crew and Dean assumes Cas just has it on for inspiration, but it's actually pretty interesting. 

After a few minutes, Cas puts his book and his pencils away, and Dean shifts closer, resting his head on Cas' thigh. When he doesn't get pushed off, he grins to himself, and when Cas' fingers drag lightly through his hair, he finds it's actually quite easy to drift off to sleep. 

When he wakes up again, Cas is turning off the TV and the light in the bedroom is back on. Dean stretches out a little with the extra room, tugging down a blanket from the back of the couch to drape over himself. Cas finds him a couple minutes later. 

"You're not sleeping out here," he says simply, and Dean just gives him a one-armed shrug.

"Why not?"

"Dean, you're injured, I'm not going to make you sleep on the couch when I have a perfectly good bad that won't make you feel worse in the morning."

"And what about you?" Dean retorts.

"I've slept on much worse than a couch," Cas assures him, but Dean still frowns. 

"Look, man, you can bring me home and patch me up, and you can be as nice as you want, but I'm you're not letting me kick you out of your own bed."

"You can get up and walk into the bedroom like an adult, or I can carry you," Cas suggests, and that sparks something inside Dean because he knows he could. "I don't want to hurt you."

Dean groans, because he knows he's right, and he pushes himself up off the couch grudgingly. He follows Cas into the bedroom and while he takes his jeans off, Cas grabs a spare blanket from the closet, and Dean scowls at him as he climbs onto the bed. 

"I don't think so, the deal was I'd get off the couch, not you go sleep on the couch instead."

"There was no deal, Dean."

"Well, there is now. I'm not gonna move in my sleep, I'm too damn sore, just come lie down."

Cas stares at the floor as he considers the idea, then drops his arms to the side, tossing the blanket back in the direction of the closet. He strips down to his underwear and Dean grins as his eyes drag over the decorated skin. Cas knows he's staring if the rise of colour in his cheeks is anything to go by, but he doesn't say anything, just turns out the light and crawls into bed next to Dean.

♦ ♦ ♦

When Dean wakes up, he stretches without thinking and immediately regrets it; where the sharp pains have faded overnight, the dull ache in his muscles has multiplied, and he feels like he got run over but a herd of bison. He's alone in the bed, so at least he can sprawl out a little, but it doesn't make him feel any better. He groans to himself and rolls onto his stomach, stretching out his toes because they're the only part of him that doesn't hurt, and he buries his face in the pillow. It smells like Cas, and Dean cringes at the memory of last night; whatever put Cas in his path - or him in Cas' path - has a sick sense of humour - of all the nights that Dean's gone out and gotten drunk and made it home fine, it had to be the one night that he didn't that he runs into the sexiest man alive. Well, technically Cas ran into him, but _still_.

Part of him wants to get up and go apologize for being a drunken mess, but the other, more vocal part convinces him that that conversation is inevitable, and he should stay here where he's comfortable - and where it smells like Cas - for as long as he can swing it. Besides, Cas would want him to rest, right?

He feels like an idiot as he lies there, in some perfect strangers bed - one he didn't even sleep with, to boot - wondering if the other guy, the dick from the bar, is in better shape than he is. He hopes not because he aches all over and he still has to make it home at some point to talk to Charlie and find out what exactly happened. He should probably text her and apologize again, but before he can even reach for his phone, the door swings in and Cas appears, leaning in the doorway wearing nothing but a pair of loose pajama pants. Dean rolls onto his side to face him, propping himself up on his elbow, and Cas' mouth twitches up in a subtle smirk.

"Mornin'," Dean grins.

"You hungry? I made french toast."

"Yeah, I was just about to get up."

"Don't get up, you're not very good at hiding your pain. I'll bring you something to eat, just relax."

"You know, you can't keep me locked up in your bedroom all day," Dean smirks. 

Cas crosses his arms over his chest and rolls his eyes as he turns back into the living room, he's just almost out of earshot when Dean hears, "you're almost worse when you're sober," and he grins to himself, flopping back down on the bed. He cringes as his chest hits the mattress, and reminds himself not to move too quickly. 

Cas returns a couple minutes later with his hands full, and he gestures with his head for Dean to move over. He makes sure to move slowly, and try his best not to show when it hurts, but Cas is over it. 

"You are one giant bruise, you don't have to pretend it doesn't hurt."

"You didn't have to do this," Dean says, quick to change the subject as Cas hands him a plate. Cas sets two mugs of coffee down on the side table and turns out of the room again, but not before coming back with his own breakfast.

"I didn't have to bring you home last night either, and yet, here we are."

Dean nods through a mouthful of french toast, considering it. Cas is barely through the door again when Dean looks up at him, "yeah, why did you do that?"

Cas just shrugs, sitting in the space where Dean had been minutes before, his plate on his lap, "I couldn't just leave you there. I've been in a lot of shitty places, sometimes with people to help me through, sometimes alone. I find if you even have one person to help you through, it makes it a whole lot easier. Plus, I didn't get the feeling you'd make it home if I left you there.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Dean frowns. 

"You told me to leave you there. Six times."

"Oh," Dean shifts uncomfortably; he doesn't remember a lot from last night, not at least before Cas brought him home, but he remembers being in a really bad place and almost wishing that he would- well, it doesn't matter now. "Sorry," he mutters, poking at his breakfast with his fork.

"Eat your food," Cas says gently, and Dean's glad for a subject change. 

He shuts up, eating his french toast and drinking his coffee, and he feels better for it when he's done. Cas takes their dishes away, and from his spot on the bed, Dean can hear a dishwasher rumble to life as Cas' footsteps approach again. 

"How sore are you?" he asks, coming straight to sit on the bed this time. Dean shrugs, and Cas rolls his eyes. "How were you more cooperative when you were drunk?" They both know the answer to this; at some point last night Dean gave up, and Cas, feeling sympathetic or whatever, let him get away with it. Now he's sober and in his right mind, and Cas is having none of his bullshit, which is kinda hot in a really frustrating kind of way. 

"Very," he grumbles, shifting so he's not looking directly at Cas.

"Lie back."

"What are you gonna do?"

"What do you think, Dean? Just lie down on your back."

Truth be told, Dean has no idea what to expect, and he watches Cas with curiosity as he leans over and pulls open the drawer of the nightstand. He whips his head back as Cas withdraws, and the muscles in his neck protest the sudden movement. 

"I hope you like cinnamon because that's the only oil I have right now," Cas pushes the blankets off the end of the bed, and Dean looks up at him, one eyebrow cocked questioningly. Cas just fixes him with a look, before spreading Dean's legs carefully and settling between his feet. 

Dean's breath catches in his throat, and he has to remind himself that Cas did this professionally; well, not _this_ , exactly, but the taking care of people thing - he's no different than any of his old patients. Other than the whole, half-naked in his bed thing, he can't imagine that was a common occurrence.

"What are you thinking about?" Cas asks, and he's surprisingly calm about it. Dean gives him a questioning look. "You were smirking to yourself."

"'S nothin'," Dean lies, resting his head back on the pillow. 

Cas pours a small amount of oil into his palm, rubbing his hands together before turning his attention to Dean's legs. He starts low, rubbing Dean's shins, and the sides of his calves, and working his way up. It feels good, and Dean can feel a little of the tension slip away as he shuts his eyes, wiggling back into the mattress. 

Cas really knows what he's doing, and Dean can't help but focus on the drag of his hands, the way his fingers press into his skin, and yeah, it's a little uncomfortable where he's really sore, but it feels damn good. By the time Cas works his way up to his thighs, Dean's is already squirming under his touch, because his thighs are so goddamn sensitive, and it's starting to feel _too good_. 

Cas' palm rubs the inside of his thigh and Dean's cock twitches with interest. He groans, trying to think of the least sexy things he can because he's only wearing a pair of boxer-briefs and if he gets hard there will be absolutely no denying it. Cas continues, oblivious, his fingers slipping up nearer the base of Dean's cock, and Dean actually groans out loud, sitting up and resting on his palms. 

"You gotta stop that, man," he huffs, but Cas just presses his fingers into the meat of Dean's thigh, and Dean clenches his jaw. "Seriously."

Cas pauses, though only momentarily, glancing up at Dean's face, his expression frustratingly neutral, "I know it hurts, but you'll feel better if you let me finish."

_You're damn right I would._

"Trust me, man, it's not the pain that's the problem."

Cas' lips twitch like he's considering what that means, but his gaze flicks back to Dean's legs, and he continues further up. Dean groans, dropping his head back against the pillow a little too roughly; that's just fucking fine - if Cas wants to keep going, it's his own fault when he ends up with a faceful of Dean's cock. He shuts his eyes, trying not to think too much about it, but he can practically feel Cas' frustration as he switches to his other leg. 

"Dean, you're too stiff," he chides, and Dean snorts at the irony, "you have to relax or I'm just going to hurt you." Dean grunts at him as he lets himself relax a little and Cas' hands move up the sides of his thigh. 

"Better," he says, shifting to get better access. Dean shuts his eyes, giving in and letting himself relax under Cas' hands. 

"There you go," Cas hums, sliding his hands up Dean's stomach and back down again. His hips rise with the motion, chasing the heat of Cas' skin, and almost immediately, the thrum of arousal returns, and he curls his hands in the sheets. He can feel himself swell with every touch and there's no way Cas can miss the bulge of his growing erection, but if he notices, he doesn't say anything about it. He knows he shouldn't enjoy this as much as he does because Cas is doing this to make him feel better, but Cas really knows what he's doing; Dean's had blowjobs that have turned him on less than the constant, steady pressure of Cas' hands on his skin. He wants to touch him, wants to make Cas feel as good as he does, but he feels like that's not where this is going; his own pleasure and subsequent erection are just an unfortunate side-effect of Cas' kindness. 

He brushes his fingers up Cas' forearms, hoping to show some appreciation, and when Cas doesn't protest, his slips his fingers up, running his hands over his shoulders and neck. Cas rolls his shoulders into the touch, but when Dean's fingers curl around the back of his neck, he tips his head back. 

"Just let me finish," he huffs down at him, though he doesn't sound upset, and when Dean looks up at him, his eyes are wide and dark. He's tempted to pull him down on top of him right then and there, aches and pains be damned, but then Cas draws back a little too quickly, and he wonders if he's reading things wrong.

"Roll over," Cas tells him, and Dean shifts himself carefully onto his stomach, reaching down to adjust his cock beneath him. He swears he hears Cas groan behind him, but he passes it off as his imagination. 

He spreads his legs so Cas can sit between them, but apparently, Cas has different ideas, because he slides them gently back together, straddling him with his knees on either side of his hips. Cas fingers press into his shoulders and Dean sinks into the bed, wiggling his shoulders to get comfortable. Cas' presses his hands down the length of his back and Dean's hips roll back into the touch, his cock dragging against the soft sheets. He bites his lip to hold back a moan, but then Cas' hands press into his sides and it slips out anyway. 

This time he knows it's not his imagination when Cas' breath catches in his throat, but neither of them acknowledges it. God, it feels so good; it still hurts, but even then it's a good kind of pain and it just adds to the rush of heat coursing through his body. He lets out another tentative moan as Cas presses his lower back into the mattress, his cock pressing up against his stomach. Cas mutters something he doesn't understand, but it doesn't really matter what it is because his voice alone is enough to get Dean's blood rushing. 

As Cas moves back down to the backs of his legs, Dean pulls his arms up, crossing them under his chin and rocking his hips forward. Cas presses a hand in the center of his back, holding him down against the mattress. 

"Stop that," he scolds, but Dean can hear the smile in his voice, and it only encourages him. "Dean, stay still." 

Dean bites his lip as Cas' hands slide up the backs of his thighs, fingertips just barely brushing the curve of his ass, and he's tempted to roll over and pull him down, but he knows he's winning this, and when Cas leans over him, he can feel the firm line of his cock against his ass. 

His hands are everywhere now, slipping from his thighs over his hips and pressing into the small of his back. Dean presses up to meet him and Cas' fingers drag over the swell of his ass, catching on the waistband of his underwear and _fuck_ , that shouldn't be so damn hot. 

He reaches up over his head, curling his arms around his pillow and pulling it down to bury his face in. He moans into it as Cas' hands smooth up the inside of his thighs, and his legs spread instinctively, giving Cas the space to move up further. Dean's so fucking horny he can't stand it, but he's beginning to think Cas isn't as into this as he thought, and he has to face the fact that maybe nothing's going to happen here and Dean's just going to have to lie on his stomach all day until his dick settles down. 

He's considering asking Cas to stop altogether, when his fingers curl around Dean's waistband, tugging his underwear down just below his ass. He presses his fingers into his skin and Dean's cock twitches beneath him. Pre-come leaks from his cock and he knows he's making a mess of Cas sheets but it feels so damn good he can't be bothered to care. 

"Dean," he breathes, pressing his head against Dean's lower back, "tell me this is okay." He pushes his nose into Dean's skin, pressing soft kisses down his spine, and Dean wouldn't turn him down, even if he could. 

"Don't stop."

Cas hums in response, stretching up to kiss the back of Dean's neck, and his erection presses between Dean's cheeks, still maddeningly covered by his pajama pants. He wants to feel him, wants to feel every inch of him, and he rocks his hips back, grinding against Cas' cock as Cas' lips move down his back, leaving a trail of cooling wet kisses down his spine, and then suddenly he's pulling back and Dean chases him, pressing up, but Cas' hands smooth up his thighs and over his ass, holding him down. 

Cas' hands roam over his skin, settling on his ass, and when his thumb dips between his cheeks, grazing his hole, Dean lets out an audible gasp, thrusting his hips back up, and Cas chuckles softly above him. He's mumbling into the pillow, moaning and pleading with Cas to give him _more _, and he's not usually so needy, but Cas has had him on edge for forever, and he needs something concrete, but Cas seems content to let him fall to pieces before he gives it to him.__

__He's slow and precise, and when Cas finally presses into him, Dean groans at the suddenness of the intrusion, but his hips roll back into the touch and Cas huffs a soft laugh against his skin. If he wasn't already so desperate, Dean would be happy to let Cas spend hours taking him apart, and Cas would probably enjoy that because judging by the little sound he keeps making, he's enjoying this as much as Dean is._ _

__Cas pulls away, leaning over him, and his cock bumps against the back of Dean's thigh, and all Dean can think is how badly he wants Cas inside him. He groans at the thought of it, and when Cas sits back on his heels with a bottle of lube in hand, Dean could cheer, but Cas makes zero effort to finish undressing either of them, and Dean grumbles into the pillow. He buries his face in it, shifting his hips to get adjust his cock because it's aching beneath him and if Cas isn't gonna fuck him anytime soon, he at least wants to be comfortable._ _

__He's about to say something to him, but then Cas is shifting behind him and he pushes Dean's cheeks apart and- _oh fuck_ , that's Cas' tongue. Dean actually whimpers as Cad licks into him, and Cas moans in response, sending little tremors through Dean's whole body. His lips are hot, mouthing at the flesh of his ass and licking over his hole. _ _

__Cas alternates using his tongue and his finger until Dean's relaxed enough for him to slip two fingers in, opening him up to press his tongue in between them. He thrusts in and out with his tongue and Dean is helpless to do anything more than press his ass up to meet him, so overwhelmed with sensation and lust that he can't do more than mutter into the pillow between shaky gasps and moans._ _

__" _Christ, Cas, so good at that- oh fuck- baby, yes- come on Cas, gimme more-_ "_ _

__When Dean is entirely loose-limbed and pliant beneath him, Cas switches it up, sliding two fingers in without hesitation, and lifting Dean's hips as he slides his hand over his stomach. He dips his head again, kissing the dip in Dean's back and dragging his teeth along the sensitive skin. Cas' fingers are exact in their movements, finding Dean's prostate with ease and hitting it on every forward thrust. He's panting and gasping in no time, and Cas finger fucks him until his legs are shaking and his cock is leaking steadily on the sheets._ _

__Dean rocks back onto his fingers as Cas rises up over him, but then Cas is pulling away, wiping his hand on the sheet and running his palms up Dean's back._ _

__"Roll over," he breathes, and Dean grunts indignantly._ _

__"I was enjoying that."_ _

__"I could tell," Cas hums, and _god_ does he sound sexy when he's wrecked. "Just turn over, Dean."_ _

__Dean shifts onto his back, acutely aware of his own cock where it juts out from the waistband of his boxer-briefs. Cas is unfazed, tugging them down his legs as soon as Dean is settled, and drops them to the side, out of the way. He slides his hands up Dean's thighs, just barely brushing the base of his cock, and Dean arches up off the bed, his eyelids fluttering as he bites down on his lip._ _

__"Or this is good, too," Dean breathes, and Cas huffs a soft laugh. "I wanna see you though," he tugs lightly at the loose fabric of Cas' sleep pants, "you're all covered up in _these_." He says the word distastefully, and Cas leans in over him with a smirk on his face. He'd give anything right now to get Cas out of his awful pants, but then he looks down between them and has to stifle a groan at the way they're tented under the strain of his erection, and maybe he doesn't mind them quite as much as he thought he did. _ _

___Still_ , he thinks, they have to go. _ _

__He slips his hands back over Cas' hips, pushing the offending pants back over his ass and _oh_ \- he's not wearing anything underneath. Cas takes his moment of surprise to dip down, pressing his nose just under Dean's jaw and kissing his way down Dean's neck. He doesn't stop; kissing a line straight down to Dean's cock, then pausing, hovering just above the head so that when his cock twitches, it nearly touches his lips. _ _

__" _Please_ -" he hears himself say, and then Cas is smirking at him, shuffling out of his pants and Dean is momentarily distracted by the sight of his naked cock, thick and red with need. He reaches out, curling his fingers around the head, and Cas pushes into his hand, a low, shuddering moan pulling from his lips. _ _

__" _Oh, Dean_ -" he breathes groaning as he draws back and snaps his hips forward again. _ _

__"Fuck me," Dean groans, and Cas shuts his eyes and shakes his head slowly. He slides his arms under Dean's shoulders, holding himself up on his elbows and straddles his hips, leaning down low so his cock rests in the dip of Dean's hip._ _

__He rolls his hips slowly, dragging his cock against Dean's heated skin and pressing his forehead against Dean's, "I brought you home to take care of you, not to hurt you."_ _

__His breath is hot against Dean's lips and it brings into focus the fact that Cas hasn't so much as kissed him yet, and suddenly he's overcome with the need to have Cas' mouth on his own; they can discuss fucking later, right now he just wants to kiss him. He tips his chin up, brushing his lips against Cas' and their eyes meet for the briefest of moments before Cas is kissing him back hungrily, nipping and biting at his lips and wasting no time showing Dean exactly what he wants._ _

__Cas' hips press forward, and he takes Dean's hand, guiding him down to wrap around both of them while his fingers slip into Dean's hair, curling and pulling gently. Dean makes an attempt to jack them together, but Cas' thrusts throw him off, and he settles for pressing up against him, grinding their cocks together, and it's even better if the soft moans that get lost between his lips are anything to go by._ _

__"Baby, I need you," Dean groans, sliding his free hand up the back of Cas' neck. He gets a warning _Dean_ , in return, but it doesn't dissuade him. " _Cas_ ," he whines, "you're not gonna hurt me, I swear, I want you to fuck me." He lets his own cock drop against his stomach, curling his fingers around the base of Cas' erection and pulling up to the head; he twists and rubs his thumb over the head, whispering in his ear how fucking good he feels, how badly he needs him inside of him, how fucking sexy he is, and somewhere along the way, Cas' resolve breaks. He pulls away, and when Dean hears the click of the lube bottle, he knows he's won. _ _

__Cas looms over him, lifting one of Dean's legs and pressing into him with a restrained grunt. Cas is big; bigger than he was expecting, and Dean shudders as he slides home, stretching him open and filling him up so fucking perfectly. He moans impatiently, hooking his knee over Cas' shoulder and rocking his hips up to get him to move, despite Cas' continued, and frankly quite impressive, self-control._ _

__"Tell me if it's too much," Cas huffs, and the slight waver in his voice is the first sign that maybe he's not quite as put together as he seems. Dean just nods in response, and Cas rolls his hips, pulling out just an inch before slipping in again._ _

__He sets a steady pace, but Dean bucks up against him, forcing him deeper and harder, and Cas allows it for the most part, but when Dean starts getting mouthy, egging him on and demanding that Cas fuck him into the mattress, he pulls out completely, staring down at Dean with dark eyes._ _

__"Roll over," he growls, and Dean's cock twitches against his hip. He flips quickly onto his stomach, trying not to let Cas see the way he winces when he turns too quickly and hurts his shoulder._ _

__He settles back into the sheets grinding his cock into the mattress until Cas presses down on his lower back, holding him still as he slides into him again. He's less cautious in this position, holding Dean's hips against the bed as he fucks into him with long, measured strokes. He's precise, pressing against Dean's prostate with every thrust, and the more Dean squirms beneath him, the quicker his thrusts get._ _

__Dean uses this to his advantage, moaning and bucking beneath him to get Cas to fuck him harder, and it works; he drapes himself over Dean's back, twining their fingers together and nipping at the back of his neck and Dean moans into the sheets._ _

__"Yeah, baby just like that- _fuck yeah_ Cas, fuck me, fuck me-" he groans into the pillow as kisses and sucks up the side of his neck, breathing heavily against his ear. _ _

__"You're driving me fucking insane," he rumbles, and Dean's cock twitches as the sound of his voice alone, broken and rough in his ear._ _

__"In a good way?" he teases, breathless. Cas huffs a laugh against his neck, burying his nose in Dean's hair as he snaps his hips forward, and Dean takes that as a yes._ _

__Cas drags his lips back down his spine, pushing himself back onto his heels, and Dean makes to follow him, but he's met with a firm but gentle hand between his shoulder blades, pushing him down._ _

__"You'll hurt your shoulder," Cas huffs, and Dean knows he's being cautious, but there's something incredibly hot about being held down and fucked, completely under Cas' control as he pounds into him. _Fuck_ , it feels good, and when Cas' hands squeeze his ass and spread him open, Dean pushes his hips back onto his cock. _ _

__"Dean," Cas warns, but his voice is ragged and the warning doesn't come across as intended. Dean makes a faint attempt to assure Cas that he is fine, and his body can take it - bruises an all - but the words die on his tongue when Cas' arms slide under his chest._ _

__Cas hauls him backwards into his lap, smoothing his hands up Dean's stomach and chest to hold him against him, and sucking at the skin on the back of his neck. He's going to be covered in hickeys later, and a soft moan bubbles up at the thought of looking himself over in the mirror, trying to discern the genuine bruises from the hickeys._ _

__Dean adjusts himself, straddling Cas' thighs so he can get better leverage. Cas' fingers brush run up the insides of his thighs, and Dean drops his head back onto his shoulder, panting against his jaw and pressing soft kisses against his neck. When Cas' fingers brush up the length of his cock, Dean's entire body convulses, and he watches with his lip between his teeth as pre-comes beads at the head and rolls down his length. _Fuck_ , he hadn't realized just how close he was to coming, and when he shifts his hips, Cas' cockhead pushes right up against his prostate, sending jolts of pleasure through him with even the slightest movement. At this rate, he's not going to last long at all, and he doesn't dare touch himself because he doesn't know if he can control himself. _ _

__He lifts up, sliding up Cas' length and slamming back onto him and the resulting shockwave almost pushes him over the edge. With a shuddering moan, he presses his face into Cas' neck and Cas holds him close, his hips twitching up in time as Dean rocks and grinds in his lap. Cas' hands are everywhere, slipping up his stomach and squeezing his thighs, pushing into his hair and stroking down the length of his neck._ _

__Dean's limp against him, hot and sweaty and aching for release as he twists back to kiss Cas, winding his good arm around his neck and sliding his fingers into his hair. Cas' mouth is hot and demanding against his own, biting and sucking and moaning into him; his tongue curling around Dean's as his palm slides down his abdomen, knuckles grazing Dean's cock._ _

__"Dean," he huffs, "I'm so close, but I want you to come" Dean nods, shoving his hips forward hard and groaning against Cas' cheeks. Cas huffs a soft laugh, catching Dean's lips in a heated kiss and muttering against his mouth, "can I touch you baby? Want to make you come-"_ _

__" _Please_ ," Dean whines, "I need to come, please-" Cas' fingers curl around him before he can even finish and Dean sinks onto him, whimpering as he's overwhelmed by the pressure around his cock. _ _

__"There you go," Cas breathes, " _oh, Dean_ \- come on, baby, come on my cock baby." Cas' hips stutter and he thrusts up hard, muttering a ragged _fuck_ against Dean's cheek. His fingers drag slowly up Dean's length, and he thrusts into it, desperate for more, more, more- _ _

__He doesn't realize he's practically begging until Cas' lips press against his ear, "that's it, baby, tell me what you want- _ohh, fuck_ -" his free hand slides to Dean's hip, holding him down as he grinds up into him, rutting against Dean's prostate._ _

__"Fuck me," Dean moans, rolling his head back on Cas' shoulder and biting his lips. The swell of arousal boils within him and as Cas' thumb slides over the head of his cock, it spills over, and he comes in hot white ropes, covering Cas' hand and his stomach. Cas fucks up hard as Dean writhes in his lap, tipping Dean's chin down to kiss him roughly. Cas comes with a ragged moan, his cock pulsing deep inti dean as he mumbles words praise into his mouth._ _

__"So good baby, so fucking good-" he bites Dean's bottom lip, squeezing the head of his cock, and Dean thrusts brokenly into his fist, whimpering at the oversensitivity as Cas' fingers slide up again, stroking him slowly as he rides through his own orgasm._ _

__Dean's entire body is shaking, oversensitive and exhausted as Cas' fingers pull away and he falls silent against him, the only sound the constant huffing and gasping of their breath in the stillness. Cas is still hard inside him, and when he shifts it sends sparks through Dean's body and he arches against him with a whine. He pushes himself up as Cas mumbles a soft apology into his skin, and he pulls off, resting on Cas' thighs._ _

__"You're amazing," Cas breathes, twisting his head to kiss Dean's jaw, "frustrating as all hell, but amazing." Dean huffs a laugh, turning in Cas' lap to face him and running his hands up his chest and over his shoulders._ _

__"Could say the same for you," he smirks. He hums, letting his eyes drop shut as Cas' fingers wind into his hair, bringing him forward._ _

__Cas kisses him tenderly, and Dean tries not to let himself dwell on just how soft and sweet it is because he has to leave soon, and he doesn't know how he's going to bring it up, especially after Cas just gave him one of the best orgasms of his life. For now, he decides, he won't think about it; he'll wait until he's clean and dressed to face reality, and for now, he'll just take whatever Cas will give him._ _

__When he draws away, Cas' eyes are shut, and Dean smiles softly at him. There must be someone watching out for him, because he would almost certainly have ended up in the hospital without Cas' help last night, and he doesn't deserve it - Cas should have just walked past and left him to freeze - but when he opens his eyes, they're blue and shining and Dean can almost believe that he does._ _

__"Do you want to have a shower?" Cas asks, and Dean would say anything at this point that means he gets to spend more time with this beautiful, kind stranger. He needs a shower too; he's covered in his own come, and he can feel wetness on the inside of his thigh, and there's no way he's going home like this. He opens his mouth to say yes, but what actually comes out is,_ _

__"I wouldn't be here right now if it wasn't for you-" and he stops himself before he finishes because that was not supposed to come out of his mouth, true as it may be. Cas just nods quietly, understanding, and tugs Dean into his arms, sliding his hands under his thighs as he slips off the bed._ _

__Cas shares the shower with him, and it's a damn good thing because Dean's legs are still shaky under him, and Cas keeps him upright. He washes Dean's hair, arguing that he needs to rest his shoulder as much as he can, but Dean suspects it has more to do with the fact that Cas just likes taking care of him, and really, he's okay with that._ _

__When they're both clean, Cas presses him up against the tiled shower wall and kisses him until the water runs cold._ _

__They don't talk about it as they dry off and get dressed, but when Dean twists his arm to dry his back, Cas takes over, and a soft, warm feeling pools in his stomach. Cas gives him a clean, dry pair of clothes to wear and Dean shoves his old clothes in a bag to take home and wash. Everything seems to go by so quickly, and he can't bring himself to tell Cas he wants to see him again because he feels like an idiot for even thinking it._ _

__Before he can even consider it, he's standing in the doorway with one foot out in the hall, and Cas is looking out at him with a soft smile._ _

__"No more bar fights, okay?"_ _

__"At least this time I'll know where to find you," Dean teases, and Cas huffs a laugh, dipping his chin before looking back up at Dean._ _

__"Take care of yourself."_ _

__"Yeah," Dean nods, "you too." He turns back out into the hall before he can say something he'll regret, but as it turns out, as he waits for the elevator, it's the not saying something that's killing him. He wants to go back and ask Cas if it would be too weird if they saw each other again because what are the chances they'll just run into each other again? It's a big city._ _

__As he steps into the elevator and presses the lobby button, he looks down at the floor and sighs. The doors shut in front of him, then open again and he looks up to find Cas standing halfway inside the elevator, running a hand through his hair._ _

__"I just wanted to remind you to take care of your shoulder - don't do anything too strenuous." Dean nods mutely, still a little stunned. "Seriously," Cas continues, "next time I see you, I want you to be back in one piece." His lips twitch up in the faintest hint of a smile and Dean grins down at the floor._ _

__"And uh, when's the next time I see you?"_ _

__"Friday?" Cas asks, "6 o'clock, my place. If you can find your way back?"_ _

__He's moved into Dean's space, and Dean doesn't even realize he's stepped forward too until Cas' breath is hot on his skin, and he nods, barely resisting the urge to lick his lips, "yeah," he breathes, "I think I can figure it out."_ _


End file.
